When the film ran out, I didn't rewind it. I stripped it from the reel, took it into the bathroom, and burned it. It stunk like hell. I flushed the residue down the toilet.
Dahl would probably never forgive me for not burying the reel of film in a pot of flowers and taking it east and putting it on his grave.
Too bad I'm not the sentimental type.
***
So I'm at a loose end right now.
I'm trying to make up my mind what comes next.
There's the Schemer, for one thing. I owe him money. Not 12 1/2 percent of $225,000, since I wound up with nothing, but on the other hand he can't sell the Thornton, Pa., job again. I owe him something, and I don't have it.
I could go to Colorado and dig up the jar at timberline and set myself up so that I could pick and choose on the next job. But I still consider that jar mistake money.
Right this minute I can't seem to make up my mind.
Once in a while I even think I might run up to Ely, Nevada, for a few days and look up Hazel Andrews.
I'll shake myself out of it one of these days, though, and then everything will be back to normal.
One Endless Hour Page 17